Something in the air
by QWERTYsweetheart
Summary: They are all sat at a world meeting, thinking over all the times they have wronged each other. It must just be something in the air. Different pairings in each chapter. Hinted USUK, FrUK, SpUK, Spamano, SpaAus, AusHun, PruHun and PruIta. Human names used.
1. Frances POV

Hinted FrUK, USUK and SpUK

[There is a different version of this chapter posted under 'Because of you']

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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**France/Francis' POV**

(The Revolutionary War/ The War of American Independence, 1775–1783)

Another boring world meeting, sat at a table with over a hundred others, all staring blankly into the open space and letting the 'important' news flow in my left ear and out my right. It was hard to keep a gentlemanly presence when you've been sat at a desk in a conference room that was designed by someone who obviously didn't believe that windows should open.

The sunlight was filling the room and the temperature had been rising in whole degrees every moment – at least from my position, slightly slanted towards the front so as to get an eye-fill of sunrays – it felt like it.

I swept my fringe off my forehead; the idea that any amount of heat or pressure could turn me into a mess was unthinkable. Shifting in my seat again I let my eyes wonder for a moment, taking them off a hyped up Alfred as he bounded on about how… if I was honest I didn't know, nor care.

My mind had been wondering for a time, anyone with eyes and that included all of the idiots that I had to work with, could see that. Arthur sat by my side.

He sat there in a way that only he could… I'd say it was so arrogant but that wouldn't be the correct term. His arms were folded across his chest apart from the couple of times he would shift his position as he anxious waited for the young maid to come back with a refill of tea. His eyes followed Alfred's every word with a scowl trying to force its way onto his face; a scowl he was trying so hard to push back.

It was getting harder to watch Arthur, knowing that so much pain was running through him to see the other nation. It almost made me pity him against my better judgment.

Once the meeting had ended and we had left the building, watching all the other countries walking in opposite directions, Arthur turned to me finally, my hand daintily held in mid-air as I want to tap him on the shoulder. He had malice in his voice which never surprised me but an overall saddened expression which he was trying to mask behind bitter words.

"You were looking at me though the entire meeting!" He growled, his eyes turning to ice. "If you've got something to say then bloody say it!"

My expression dropped and my eyes trailed down to his clenched fists, shaking against his legs. "Arthur… did you want to go for a drink?"

His shacking halted briefly and he coughed unexpectedly. "A drink…?"

I nodded. "A drink…"

Sat in a smoky bar with English gentleman wrapped around my waist wasn't the way I had expected to end the evening, but it happened. He sat half on my bar stool, his head holding him up as it pushed into the hollow of my neck, fingers entwining into my hair with the glass of Whisky still in his clammy grip. His words became indistinguishable as his lips moved against my shoulder.

"That bloody…" That's when it started, not thinking once how much easier it would have been to let him continue under his own steam. "…Antonio!"

"Arthur, I'm sorry about Alfred…" I muttered, much to my own stupidity as I started to man on another rant. Antonio left his mind the moment the American's name left my lips.

"…feckin' Alfred! He was meant to come back!" He spat out, sobbing uncontrollably as I smoothed down his hair.

The American War of Independence… "Arthur I'm sorry…" I sighed, running my fingers though his hair.

I remembered everything about that war, the entire fight from the side lines and I watched again as Arthur feel down onto his knees in the cold rain at Alfred's feet.

_iI whipped my hair away from my face with one hand as my other one extended out to hold back my troops. Arthur and Alfred stood apart, the contrast in their faces told their story better than I ever could: Alfred plastered with determination and pent up anger, Arthur looking like a drowned rat… so hopeless to the point it made my heart weep!_

_Arthur had collapsed onto his knees, watching him fall was like watching everything in slow motion… wanting desperately to catch him and wrench him back up to his feet and to tell him that it wasn't over. I wanted to feel the satisfaction I thought I would when everything broke down… To feel the same as I felt when Alfred came to me for help… but it never came. All that came was a horrible cocktail of guilt and distress._

_I hated Arthur, but I couldn't watch as Alfred turned his back… watching the English man stare after him like an abandoned child. I walked up to the man on the saturated ground, pushing his hair out of his eyes._

"_Arthur…?"_

_How could I define him; how he looked though my tear-blurred vision? "Francis…"/i_

The man looked up with teary eyes, letting his head fall forward onto my shoulder. "Why did you help him you bastard?!" I let the tears run down his cheeks, catching them with my shirt. "He… he would never have left if it wasn't for you!" He whispered into my hair, a weak fist gripping at my jacket.

I needed him off me, the very moment his lips touched me and when he finally did get off me it wasn't a moment too soon! I breathed a sigh of relief, swallowing the lump of nervousness that had developed in the back of my throat.

I whipped my forehead with the back of my hand and took a deep breath, looking down at the English man as he stared up at me with dazed eyed… oblivious to everything that was happening and far more fascinated by now being on the floor.

"Let's get you home Arthur…"

I couldn't explain why anything had happened that evening and by anything I mean me pushing the drunken male off me, helping him home without staying and the pity I felt for him even the next day.

So many thoughts buzzing round my head… the feeling you could only get from some force in you that drove you to do out-of-character things like comforting your worst enemy. No matter how much I thought about it, the one thought that came to mind was… well, guilt. It hurt, everything that he had saw go through Arthur in the World Conference, at the pub… how or why he had let it happen, I didn't know.

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Thanks for reading!

Continue to England/ Arthur's POV.


	2. Englands POV

Hinted SpUK and SpaAus

[There is a different version of this chapter posted under 'Once the war is won']

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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**England/Arthur's POV**

(Note: The Anglo-Spanish war, 1585 - 1604)

Some things never really do leave you, no matter how many times you try to leave them behind. Everyone does things that they aren't proud of and everyone does thing that they think are a good idea; the only difference is that I never expected it chase me.

I was Captain Kirkland, a mighty pirate who concurred many lands and acquired many possessions... nobody ever questioned my authority and those who were against me hated me. That was the way it should have been. That is how I had learnt to deal with it.

Something had changed with that word forgive. It wasn't something I had heard before but it rag in my ears constantly. As I would look down at the bruised and bloody country; his wounds seeming more real, him seeming so much more alive.

_The man stood below me, his head bowed so that his scraggly fringe hid his glistening eyes. "Antonio…" I muttered, lifting his face up with the toe of my boot "…look at your master when he talks to you."_

_Still he focused his eyes on the corner of the cabin and gritting his teeth as he barely spat out 'You will never be my master' in his native tongue. It made me angry, to think that one in such an unpleasant predicament would still be so disobedient! I leaned down to his level; gripping his jaw to that he had no choice but lock eyes with me. "I am whatever I tell you I am because I beat you Anthony… I will always beat you."_

_He spat at me, spraying my face with droplets of blood from his cut up cheeks and lips. "I forgive you."_

_"Oh really now?" I smirked sadly, dabbing the blood away from his lips with a silk handkerchief and at the same time, ripping the delicate cross from his neck, snapping the gold chain._

_He squirmed away, ripping his face to the right side and away from me. "I do… but God, you better pray He is as forgiving as your Queen claims He is."_

_The dark cabin of a ship, made drearier by the claret and musky purple furnishings that should have made it much more lavish. I stared at the bottle of wine in many hand, waiting for it to slip from my grip in my drunken state._

_Only days previously, I had defeated the Spanish's first round of fire and I had stood so strong… but now could even my enemies see me as strong? Notorious Captain Kirkland, feared pirate and ruler of the British Empire who apparently spent his days sat in a dark room, emptying bottle after bottle until looking in the mirror became somewhat bearable._

_The dark was driving me mad! No… his words were driving me mad! Even the worn curtains where a quiet torment… the fabric still stained with Spanish blood, serving as a reminder to what power can do; power, greed and pride._

_I raised the broken chain to my eyelevel, looking at the light shining of the religious icon. I felt small, I was being crushed and I couldn't get away._

I broke my view of the carpet, which I was becoming less and less fond of the longer I looked at it, to look out across the conference table for the first time the entire meeting, trying to distract my mind for those times without success.

It was July again… the worst month for reminiscing on old times although I was becoming more distracted by the French bastard next to me, staring at me in a daunting way. It didn't matter, for the first time ever… anything that took my mind off both the hyper-active Alfred in front of us and the somewhat tense Antonio who sat just across the table from Francis, next to his Lovino with this gaze set on Roderich.

It made me itch, jealously swelling in my throat.

There was so much to say… too much to say.

My chest felt like it was filling with thick fluid, like it had in my pirate years, sat alone in my cabin covered in Spanish blood and when I had stood on the battlefield with my beloved Alfred, covered in the American's. My eyes did too, thinking about it. I suddenly became more aware of Francis staring at me… not glancing, or looking – staring.

I looked into my tea-cup, desperate to get my thoughts back under my own control before I lost control when the meeting finally ended. Antonio stood with his back to us out in the gardens, Lovino and Roderich with him as I approached.

The words I had planned to say had already started to dissolve as I stepped closer, thrown off guard by Roderich who looked up with slightly watery eyes. I couldn't feel any concern for the other man's well-being, only seeing him being chased after by Antonio as he walked away filled me with something… that same jealously and hurt, like being passed over for a promotion.

"Tell me you hate me." I muttered under my breath, vaguely aware of someone standing behind me as I spun around to Francis' waiting hand. I wanted… no, I needed a drink. At the end of the day, it always ended with alcohol.

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Thanks for reading!

Continue to Spain/ Antonio's POV.


	3. Spains POV

Hinted SpaAus and SpUK

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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** Spain/Antonio's POV**

(Note: The War of Austrian Succession, 1740 -1748)

_Mmm~ that tomato looks really good… and it's just sat there. I shall lick my lips, that'll indicated that I am about to eat the tomato. But wait! What happens if another nation like Lovi sees me and go for the tomato first?! No! That will be awful!_

I looked away from the tomato, not licking my lips and not even desiring it but I glanced over to the countries around me… my Lovino and Feli, Roderich and his Elizabeta… Bella sat with Govert. I knew how they thought. I knew how they all thought that I thought. I wouldn't deny that I could be oblivious… easily taken advantage of but nobody could say for sure if I was truly dense. It was getting hard, keeping up the simple-minded persona that I picked up after the great wars of our time.

I had been ruthless, fierce. My younger years were made up of the exploitation of many and the destruction of even more; my axe constantly bloody.

The Spanish had never been given enough credit for how successful we had been, the praise was shared by the rest of the world. In some way I was glad because the guilt that raged through me even thinking out some of my history made me want to convulse into sobs. Having the other nations place all that shared distain on Arthur and Francis made it easier.

I sat with Roderich and my Lovino, and I was so glad that he was there, without him I might have gone slightly insane. He looked as sweet as usual with that little frown which lit up his eyes. Roderich was on the other side of me and I saw his eyes trail to his Feli… that was a stupid thought, i_his_/i Feli. It wasn't right to bring up old wars even when I had put much more of my time and energy into trying to unite _my_ Lovino will his long lost brother.

Again, I let my eyes fall on him, a small smile pulling itself from my throat. We had been close then, even was we fought over the Vargas brothers we had been close, until… my eyes snapped to Francis and to an absent seat next to Ludwig; I'd never regretted my trio until I got lost in my in thoughts, then I could do nothing but look at Roderich, Elizabeta, Lovi, Feli… all the people we had hurt well lost in bloodthirsty bliss.

_He stood opposite me, my axe angled towards his delicate neck. Those hands danced out, reaching towards me in a pleading way. I'm sure he could see the glint in my eyes, his checks flushing a light pink as Gilberts hand closed tightly around his collar and yanked him up, my axe pressed into his flesh and God did I try to hide my wince from them both._

_"__The Hungarian army is descending!" My voice strained over the shouts and clashes of swords, Gilbert's smirk only confirmed the only way I could make it more comfortable for the nation at the feet of the other was to take the blows myself._

_Breath rattling I turned to see Francis with the same smirk. "Do it Gilbert." He egged on._

_I shivered as I looked back down at Roderich's bruised and bloody form, cheek smash into the dirt. "I thought you were my ally 'Toni…"_

_All eyes land on me, or that is how it felt. Gilbert's mocking laugh made me grimace. "Yeah 'Toni. Help out your ally, kiss his cuts better and fix him some tea like a good little boy."_

_With eyes focused back on Roderich I replied to my mockery with a smirk, boot smashing into his side as I pushed back any part of me which strived to help the man. "You are nothing to me, you never have been."_

I reached a hand out as if to touch it to his, muttering his name lightly, far too lost in my own mind to register the angry look on Lovino's face, smacking my hand down like I was a child. The gentleman glanced over, smiling politely and letting his otherwise blank expression drop.

We met in the garden afterwards, Lovino by my side as always as if he didn't trust me enough to leave me alone. I gave my trademark smile, bright but I didn't expect it to reach my eyes.

Roderich did the same, looking up with watery eyes.

"It must be something in the air." He reassured me in an unconfident voice, throwing a glance over my shoulder with a nod as he spun on his heels. I can't say it didn't confuse me, not even paying my angry Italian the attention he craved, I followed him, only to find him gone.

With the meeting long over and Lovi back to his hotel room, I walked. The chilled air thrashed my skin. I caught sight of Arthur's messing hair leaning on the shoulder of an obviously uncomfortable French man; it made me awkward to watch, the tension rising like it had in the conference even with them ignorant to me watching, growling at the glass as the Frenchman carried Arthur out of the bar, his legs collapsing under him.

"Now is not the time, I am having my own troubles!" Francis had caught sight of me, his eyes cold, quickly turning away as he struggled to hold up the squirming man. He glared, practically dropping Arthur in the process. "Maybe you feel some guilt about what happened 'Toni but it doesn't change anything. If we feel guilty about every empire we crush then we destroy ourselves!"

"How did you know?" I asked, my eyes drawn to the remnants of Great Britannia sprawled out on the pavement, nudging his side with the tip of my shoe as I did so.

Francis sighed, his attention returning to the Briton, leaning down to pick him up. "It's in the air."

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Thanks for reading!

Continue to Austria/ Roderich's POV.


	4. Austrias POV

Hinted SpaAus, AusHun and PruHun

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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**Austria/Roderich's POV**

(The dissolution of Prussia, 1947)

Out of everything that had happened, I had chosen to ignore it all. I didn't want to understand it. Austria, or I, however one would want to put it had never been a forceful dictator. I had never been a pirate… far too absorbed in my own world of culture and music. Even when I was joined with my rouge Elizabeta, fighting was never my forte. Not in the way that the others slashed their way through anyway.

I could claim that the tension in the conference had been rising with everything moment but by the look on everyone's faces they could already feel it, particularly Antonio who's glances at me had become nothing short of distressing.

His face reflected the face of every other European nation; paling, sickening, full of angst, overflowing with empathy. From the corner of my vision, I saw his hand extended out towards me as if he was to gently placing it on my shoulder but it was smacked away by Lovino whose angry expression made my decision to keep my glimpses at bay.

I turned my full attention to my wife, no- my ex-wife who seemed oddly distracted herself. Her eyes were red; nose was runny like she was sick. Her strong, post-feminist demeanour seemed to be crumbling over its own weight. I hadn't seen her like that since…

_To think I had started out the day so happily. Had I known the way it would have turned the moment I sat at that table I wouldn't have left my bed. Tears poured from Elizabeta's eyes, making her cheeks red-raw as they did so. She stood before me, and I knew I was tearing up too, and to the point repression made me feel ill._

_"No…" She uttered, teeth grinding together. "Don't lie to me Roderich, it's not nice to lie to people about those things."_

_"It was carried through." I whispered, swallowing thickly "I'm sorry."_

I didn't think that Elizabeta could look any more distraught but I was proven wrong. It was the most heart-breaking experience of my extremely long life, and I remembered dropping to the floor to cradle her in my arms. I shook myself out of the past, standing as the meeting came to an end and followed closely to her, fingers tangled in the ribbon of her dress.

"It's not fair Roderich." She said simply when we got to the garden, hidden round the back of the hotel in the shadow of the tall trees, having left the Spanish and Italian men behind. I took her cheek in my hand, sitting beside her, but she silenced me before I could speak with a soft sigh. "I saw the way Antonio looked at you and for a while I didn't know why until I saw him look at that chair…" She paused, breathing in deeply, wiping her eyes. "…and it all came back."

"Eliza…"

"I never got to say good-bye to him, I never got to apologise. Francis can beg Arthur for forgiveness, Arthur can pick some petty fight with Antonio… Alfred can try to win back Toris' trust and Natalia can prove her devotion to Ivan. Berwald can plead to Tino. I'll never have that chance."

"There is nothing to you to apologise for."

Elizabeta let her tears fall, slowly she pulled a tattered envelope from her pocket. I looked at it, the name 'Feli Vargas' stood in withered writing on the front. She gripped tightly, sobbing into her palm as she did so. "I'm sorry Gilbert."

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Bit of a shorter chapter this time... Thanks for reading!

Continue to Italy/ Feliciano's POV.


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